Worst night ever
by forgottenpavement
Summary: Molly's off work (finally), John's on his way home (finally) and Sherlock may actually be leaving them alone for a night (finally). It's the night the couple have been looking forward to all week and it's finally happening. Except for the bit with the burning and the ice and the falling and the picked lock...


_I met a beautiful and lovely person on Omegle who wrote beautiful and lovely words and we created this (hopefully) beautiful and lovely piece about John and Molly. It might read like a roleplay (since it was) but there has been some editing to fix that. Read all the way, as it's not just a plot-what-plot story._

_Thanks for reading and please leave us a review in that fancy box at the bottom! If you feel so inclined, send us a prompt and we might do it!_

* * *

Are you coming home tonight? -Molly

**I am, yeah. Sorry. JW**

Why are you sorry? -Molly

**Not being home sooner, I suppose. JW**

It's okay - it's not like you told me you'd be home at a certain time or anything. Besides, all I'm doing is sitting in my scrubs and laying on the couch. Boring stuff. -Molly

**I've just got this one patient to take care of, and then I'll be on my way. Why don't you change out of your scrubs? JW**

Or I could always just take them off... -Molly

**Christ, yes. Yes. I'm on the way now. JW**

On a scale of one to punch him in the face, how much would you hate Sherlock if I told you he was currently perusing our kitchen for an 'experiment'? -Molly

Did you give him a key? -Molly

**Out. Get him out. Now, please. Why the hell doesn't he just use the kitchen at Baker Street? JW**

**Yeah, in case of emergency. JW**

I'm trying, I'm trying! He just rolled his eyes and laughed when I suggested he leave before you got home. -Molly

"I am currently using all available space on my counters at 221B. Pass me that strainer." -Molly

Next time tell me, please. Was in the middle of taking off said scrubs when he pranced in. -Molly

**Did he see you at all? JW**

Not sure. Probably not, knowing him. He just went straight back to the kitchen. -Molly

**Well, then we'll just have a bit of fun in the shower. If he's not going to leave, fine. We could both use one anyway, I'm sure. He'll know what we're doing, probably, but he won't be able to hear. JW**

**Frankly, I've had a bloody long day, and I just want you. I don't feel like waiting until he leaves. JW**

I don't know if I can do that, knowing he's out_ there,_ knowing what we're doing. Which sounds not good, because it sounds like I don't_ want_ you, but if I make a sound I'll just be thinking about him hearing and then graphing it in his head or something. -Molly

I want you too. In case that wasn't clear. -Molly

**Fine, I'll get him to leave somehow, but I still want shower sex. JW**

**If that's alright. JW**

I bribed him with that arm I was telling you about. The one with the boils and maggots? He left. Left a mess too, but oh well.-Molly

Don't let me text you anymore, because I think I'm killing the mood. -Molly

**Send me a picture of you out of your scrubs and it'll probably bring the mood back rather quickly. JW**

**Also, shower sex? You never answered. JW**

[OPEN IMAGE ATTACHMENT] -Molly

Is that okay for my answer? -Molly

**Yeah, yeah. I'd say that's far above satisfactory. JW**

**God, you're gorgeous. JW**

Where are you at RE: cab? You're taking too long. -Molly

Thank you. -Molly

You looked v. sexy this morning when you jumped up after oversleeping: bit of fuzz on your cheeks and rumpled hair and all. -Molly

**Sorry, what was that first text? JW**

**Am I just an idiot and missing something? Why's it got that 'RE:' thing? You know I'm shit with technology. JW**

**And thank you. JW**

Sorry, sorry. Jen does it when she texts and now I've picked it up. -Molly

It means where are you at - what's the cabs location? -Molly

**Oh, right, sorry. Again, I'm a bit of an idiot when it comes to technology. JW**

**Turning around the block now. Be up soon, you should probably get in the shower now. Or at least get the water going. JW**

No, I'm just a bit ahead of you. ;o) -Molly

* * *

It was a good thing Sherlock hadn't brought the gallon buckets that he needed for his experiment along with him ("I need to study how the boiling water reacts with this pill, no, don't touch it, do you have any buckets, I've forgotten mine.") as that would have ended with no hot water in the shower and no shower sex. Which, as it was, she was looking forward to; John was too, it seemed, and a grumpy army doctor and a bored consulting detective usually always ended in yelling and Molly the referee. "Go away Toby, I'm undressing you naughty cat," she mumbled to the gray feline, toeing his fat body with her toe as she shut the bathroom door and slipped out of her scrub bottoms.

Once the cab stopped in front of the door to John and Molly's flat, he practically threw a wad of bills at the driver, muttering a small 'Thank you' before getting out hastily. Already he was half hard thanks to Molly's lovely picture (Which he had saved to his phone, of course.) and it took him another two minutes to get his keys out, fumble with the lock, and start up the stairs. He was glad that the flat had a very similar layout to 221B, it was much easier to find his way around when there wasn't much light. John bent down to scratch Toby behind the ears for a few seconds before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind him. The sight he was greeted with only left him growing harder. "Why hello there, Miss Hooper." he greeted lowly, stepping over her scrubs and pressing a lingering kiss to her lips.

She smiled against his lips, her fingers finding purchase in the wrinkled fabric of his shirt and tugging impatiently; they'd both been working like mad this week with general work and cases for him, and she'd barely gotten a kiss goodnight yesterday before sleep had pulled them both under. "Wearing too many clothes, I think." Oh. He hadn't had time to shave this morning. That was good. Very good. Who cared if Sarah had a clean shaven policy if it meant he looked all rugged and gorgeous and handsome after not doing so over the weekend plus today? She didn't mind. Pulling back slightly, Molly pressed a soft peck to the corner of his mouth, rubbing her palms over his cheeks.

He could tell that she loved the stubble and, in order to please her, he nuzzled his face into her hand slowly. He should lock that away for some other time, then, perhaps when he had a few days of work off in a row - like that would ever happen. John ran his fingers through her hair, trailing them down to the small of her back and slapping her backside playfully. "I find that I have to agree with you." he chuckled, kissing her once more before he began tugging his jumper over his head and working at the buttons of the shirt underneath. He loved the warmth of layered clothing, but it also tended to get in the way when he needed them off quickly. Soon, he was wearing only his pants, thanks to Molly's eager help.

Molly threw his shirt dramatically over her shoulder with a huff and a pout of her lips, then took to staring at his belt buckle pointedly. Her skin was giving rise to gooseflesh and while she wanted his pants off for many (many) reasons, one prudent reason was that she was /cold/. Standing naked for five minutes whilst you were next to a steaming shower often did that. "I know it's not sexy or arousing or anything, but I'm really chilly and while you holding me and kissing me might solve that, then your pants would never come off, so I'm just going to get in and wait for you." As way of apology, she moved forward and gave the bulge in his trousers a stroke and a light squeeze.

Stifling a soft moan at the touch, John shucked his trousers and pants off as quickly as he could. He hoped Molly wasn't truly upset, though he did understand what she was getting at, he was starting to get rather cold, and she had been in there naked much longer than he'd been. "Sorry, I'm sorry." he mumbled, kicking out of his underwear before he nearly stumbled into the shower to join her. The doctor pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her neck as the near boiling water heated them up. That was a main benefit of their relationship, they both enjoyed the water as hot as it would go, which led to very pleasing shower sex. He smoothed his hands down her back, pressing kisses to her wet skin in order to apologize for making her wait so long. "I'm sorry." he repeated quietly.

"Don't say sorry, 'cus then I'll say sorry and then you'll say -" Her words trailed off (what had she been talking about?) when he suckled at a spot on her neck and all previous thoughts were gone, save for what his lips were doing and where. The long column of her neck arched back and her fingers paused their path up and down his chest. God, it wasn't taking much today, was it? Stupid work schedules and sick patients and dead patients and - "I still smell like formaldehyde, sorry, sorry, you can stop!" Well, he could stop, but she wasn't encouraging him to with her tilted head and what not.

Taking her tilted head as permission to go on, he began nipping gently at her skin, roaming down to her collarbones and sucking at them for what felt like minutes before he was moving back to her lips. "You're so bloody beautiful, Molly. So beautiful." he murmured against her lips, licking over them teasingly before pressing them together. To this day, he still didn't understand why Molly was self conscious about the formaldehyde smell. Sure, it had been hard to get past at first, but eventually the scent of her violet shampoo drowned everything else out. As they kissed, he reached behind her for the bottle of that same shampoo, blindly popping the lid and squirting a bit into his palm. "Moll, when are you going to realize that I don't mind the smell?" he asked with chuckle, pulling away and beginning to spread the soap through her hair, being sure to massage her scalp with the tips of his fingers.

Never, most likely, she wanted to respond, her brain always going back to Louis and her uni days whenever John kissed anywhere but her lips after a long day. Said ex-boyfriend (did fumbling around in the lounge count as dating?) had made a big show about how God awful he thought she smelled after one of her rounds and it had stung, sticking with her. That didn't matter, though. It shouldn't have. John was doing things with his fingers, the best fingers in all of London she was sure, and it felt bloody fantastic. "Someday," was her quick response before she leaned her her head on his shoulder - perfect angle to kiss his own collarbone and dodge the soap leaking from her hair - and began to trace his hipbone with the tips of her fingernails. "D'you know, you have the best fingers in all of London? Sometimes watching you do stuff with them - you know, like writing or something - makes me randy."

Chuckling once more at her confession, he moved one hand under the fountain of water coming from the shower head, successfully washing the soap off so he could do something with his fingers he knew Molly would love. "Is that so?" he questioned, trailing his fingertips down the small curve of her stomach until he reached her pubic bone. "Only in London? Mind telling me who outside of London I'm competing with?" he joked, slipping his hand between her thighs and teasing at her clit. God, he hoped she would moan loudly, as she always did with the first few touches. He loved that he was the one to make Molly do that, the one to make her lose control, and be completely opposite of what she was at work. Sweet, shy, even innocent was how she was described in public, and he was the only one able to see her in her completely non-innocent state.

She was a tad miffed, if she were to be honest. She wanted to touch him first and_ give_ him something in terms of her mouth and his hard member (he said he'd had a bloody long day and using bloody usually meant whiny patients and long appointments) but she had no qualms about the current path the pads of his fingers were working, especially with the added bonus of the water and - "FUCK!" she screamed loudly, not from pleasure but from pain, a sudden and intense burning making its way through her groin. Her eyes became wet and she scrambled to attempt to move John out of the way, screaming as she attempted to wash out whatever was burningburningburning.

Quickly, John tugged his hands away, wondering just what the bloody hell was going on. "Shit, Moll, I'm so sorry, I thought I got it all off!" he said frantically, his eyes going wide as he assessed the entire situation. Well, it certainly looked as if sex was out of the question tonight, considering he'd just caused Molly an amount of pain even he couldn't fathom. That was, after all, the only thing he could think of that had caused her to have that reaction. He had just been handling soap, and he should have been more thorough. He got out quickly, nearly falling on his arse and having to catch his fall with the bathroom counter when his wet feet met the tile floor. "Fuck." he muttered, grabbing a towel for her and waiting for her to get out. There was no point in helping, really, he'd likely just make things worse.

He hadn't bothered to shut the shower curtain and water continued to spray out of the confines of the shower, Molly too preoccupied with viciously scrubbing at every inch of her vagina with the wet towel she'd pulled from the top of the shower head; she registered John slipping and momentarily stopped to question if he was okay, but the words died on her lips with a moan and a hiss. "Burns, burns, burns, need ice, burns, make it **stop!**" Now she was just blindly moving due to the crippling sensation, hands fumbling for the knob to shut off the water and legs wobbly as she tried to exit the shower in search of said ice. Cold. That would feel good. Ice. The ringtone for Sherlock ("Ghostbusters theme", for no reason but it made her laugh) echoed through the bathroom. "Shut_ up_, **shut UP**!"

A groan escaping his lips at the sound of what he knew to be Sherlock's ringtone, he reached for it with wet hands and clumsily hit the green button. "_Really_ not a good time, Sherlock!" John shouted, partially to be heard over the sound of Molly screeching, and partially because he was irritated himself. He hung up quickly, not bothering to wipe the water from Molly's phone before he set it on the counter with a bang. "One moment, Molly, I'm so sorry. **Fuck!**" he exclaimed to relieve a bit of stress, stumbling out of the bathroom and nearly slipping again. He ran through their flat, naked and dripping, attempting to ward off Toby who was rather curious and would try to enter the bathroom. Once reaching the kitchen, he didn't think twice before opening the freezer and grabbing ice with his hands, completely forgetting that no, he didn't have some sort of protection from the freezing cold. He dropped the ice on the floor with another shout, one question on his mind. Could the night get any worse?

Apparently it could. "John?" a deep baritone called from the opposite side of the front door, the knob jangling as Sherlock attempted to pick it, the spare key on the counter next to the man awkwardly fumbling with the ice. "John, open this door, I need to finish my experiment. Molly, open this door. You'll both get cross at me if I pick it and break the lock again, so kindly unlock this." Molly heard the petulant pleas through the haze of pain (slowly easing off with the wet washcloth placed in the right places) and leaned her head against the cool tile. Oh, bloody Hell. How had he gotten to Bart's, gotten the arm and was now back in such short of time? Could they not have one moment of peace? Normally he was fine with being by himself and occupying his free time sans John and Molly, but he'd been clingy this week given that they'd both had little time for their "child".

Jesus Christ. John and Molly couldn't have one solitary, nice night to themselves, that was evident from how things had gone in the oh, thirty minutes he'd been home? Taking a step forward and forgetting the already partially melted ice on the floor, John couldn't avoiding slipping anymore, and he fell hard on the tile that was made freezing from the ice. Completely naked. "What the** fuck**!" he groaned, unable to move due to the stabbing pain in his back. It took him a few very, _very_ cold moments before he could move away from the ice, Sherlock temporarily forgotten at the moment. "Fucking hell, _**why**_?!" he exclaimed, deciding to take all of his anger out in very loud bouts of profanity that he simply couldn't contain. Shivering violently, he managed to stand up on shaky legs, walking very slowly - back arched - to the sofa, where he picked up the blanket that was on the back and covered himself with it.

* * *

"You know, I think we should start rewarding him for listening to what we say," Molly stated from her end of the couch a few hours later, the sound of the ice moving a welcome background against the hum of the TV and her words. She wasn't sure which ice pack was making the noise - it could have been the large one positioned over her sensitive bits or the three stacked underneath John's back - but either way it was /slowly/ (very slowly) starting to turn from a pure agony of a night in to one she would later laugh about. "You know, like they do with little children. A star for listening and 'Well done, Sherlock, you've filled in the whole chart, body part for you!'" She laughed at her own joke and poked at John's toes. "Oh, come on, that was pretty good of him to leave. Might have had to do with your screaming and mine, but oh well."

He trapped her fingers with his foot, unable to help grinning at her before releasing them. His back ached, but at least they were both dressed for the most part - the only thing Molly was missing were her pyjama bottoms, so that she could reach the area of pain for herself easier. "After he quickly deduced what had happened, yeah, it was great. No more sexual endeavors for us in the shower, I suppose. Christ, that was the worst night we've ever had together." he grumbled, running a hand over his face and adjusting on his ice packs. Just a few seconds later, he burst into a fit of giggles, a delayed reaction against the joke Molly had made. "I'm sorry, Moll. My mistake was the metaphorical tipping of the domino effect on everything that happened." he sighed, grabbing the hand that wasn't holding the ice pack in place and kissing at it softly.

She blushed, because sometimes she couldn't quite believe that he was /hers/ and that he was kissing /her/ hand (God, that sounded cheesy, didn't it?). The burning had stopped and she was now just a little bit sore, so it wasn't painful in the least when she moved the cold and melting ice cubes away to better lean forward. While she was just a tad tender, he was actually in pain, and she hated that. She hated the way his eyes crinkled more when he talked and was in pain and she hated it. No, she didn't need (or want, God no, not now) anything in return, but she could certainly /give/. A small smirk settled on her lips as she tugged at his waistband and she made sure he was watching as she slowly ran her tongue against the edge of aforementioned lips. "I don't, but I'm fairly certain I can turn this 'worst night ever' around..."


End file.
